Red vs Blue: Season 12
by BentleyGirl
Summary: My fifteenth novelization of the Red vs. Blue series, this one telling about the Blood Gulch Crew's further adventures on Chorus. Please read previous stories to catch up as it has been five months since my last story and some of you may have forgotten. Read and review. Rated T for swearing and sexual references
1. Oh Captains, My Captains

**Welcome, one and all, to the world premiere of ****(dun dun dun dun dun dun duuuuuuuuunnnnnnn)**** the Red vs. Blue Season 12 novelization! Wooo!**

**Yeah, that's right. Whole new season, whole new story, but still following my rules; IE, some helmetless scenes, occasional armorless scenes, movements are my own, may add original dialogue lines, etc, etc. ****Also, if one week the show airs a PSA, don't expect an update that week.**

**Now as you may already know, my source for this story comes from the RvB wiki, so if one or more episode pages take a long time to get finished, then the chapters may take just as long to get there. (I've added this so that if anyone who works on the wiki and is also a fanfiction reader sees this, then they can get a move on!)**

**And of course, I do not own the rights to Red vs. Blue or Halo; they belong to the guys at Rooster Teeth and everybody at Microsoft and 343 Industries.**

**Added bonus: I'm introducing a new game called "Spot the Star Wars reference"! Throughout the course of this story, if you can spot any reference to Star Wars, let me know in your reviews. Whoever can spot the most gets an honorable mention at the end of the story.**

**I couldn't figure out how to incorporate the teaser trailer into this, so I'm just gonna skip it and go right to the action. Let's go!**

* * *

Chapter 1: Oh Captains, My Captains

On an isolated planet many light-years from friendly contact, in a darkened tunnel deep beneath the jungle, an important mission was underway. Three teams of soldiers, each wearing tan armor, were approaching an old mining facility from different directions, ready to do battle against their mortal enemy.

Behind a stack of crates, one soldier, whose armor had blue trim, switched on the radio in his helmet to contact the others. "Red Team, this is Blue Team. We are in position, do you copy? Over."

In a passageway that overlooked the facility's garage, a member of Red Team responded. "Blue Team, this is Red Team. I copy, Blue in position. Over."

The Blue Team leader nodded at the reply. "Gold Team, this is Blue Team. All units are in position and awaiting further instructions. What is your status? Over."

He waited for a response, but none came. "Gold Team 2-3, this is Blue Team 1-2. Radio check. Over."

Finally the leader of Gold Team responded. "Uh yeah, we're here, Blue Team."

"Gold Team, I repeat, what is your status? Over."

"Uhhh… we're pretty good?"

The Blue Team leader frowned. "What?"

"Actually, uh, we were wondering if we could maybe change our name to, uh, Orange Team."

"What difference does it make?"

At that moment, another voice cut into the conversation. "You tell them it makes a big difference, Bitters, because I am orange! I am not gold! I am not yellow! I am fucking orange!"

"Grif, get off the radio!" another voice snapped in the distance. "The teams are fine."

"The teams suck," the first voice, Grif, muttered.

"You're gonna blow our cover!"

Grif sighed. "Alright, we'll be Gold. Go tell the Blue Team to suck a dick and then get into position."

"Whatever you say, Captain," Bitters replied.

"Uh, I heard all that," the Blue Team leader cut in, but Bitters quickly hung up. "Assholes… Alright, team, let's go."

* * *

Outside the main doors of the facility, Grif switched off the radio and rejoined his fellow teammates, Simmons and Caboose.

Simmons, who was wearing maroon armor, shook his head in disbelief. "We're infiltrating an enemy base and you're bitching about colors?"

"It's a misleading title," Grif grumbled. "People could get confused!"

"Oh shut up!" Simmons snapped, turning back towards the security lock on the door.

"No, he's right," cut in Caboose, who wore blue armor with a Mark V helmet. "I'm confused."

"Caboose, you're always confused," Simmons sighed.

"Well, that sounds confusing."

Ignoring Caboose's stupid remark, Simmons placed a small device on the lock and switched it on. "Okay, doors opening in approximately fifteen seconds."

"Yeah, yeah," Grif muttered, taking out his battle rifle.

"Oh man," Simmons gulped nervously. "What if this doesn't work?"

"Probably won't."

"What if it's a trap?"

"Probably is."

"What would Sarge say at a time like this?"

"Shut it, Simmons."

"Probably. Yeah."

Simmons was right to be nervous, though. This was the first time in so many years that he was doing something without making glib remarks to the leader he admired most. In fact, it was the first time that any of them were doing anything without their respective leaders.

Barely two months ago, the three Spartans had been returning to their original home as members of their teams, Red and Blue, sometimes known as the Blood Gulch Crew after the canyon they'd been based at. But on the way, through a mysterious series of events, their ship had veered way off course and crash-landed on a backwater planet called Chorus, and straight into the middle of a civil war. The arrival attracted the attention of the two main factions of the planet, the Federal Army of Chorus and the New Republic.

The Reds and Blues were contacted by Felix, a mercenary working for the New Republic, who asked them to aide them in taking back the planet for themselves. At first, the Blood Gulch Crew refused the offer, just wanting to get out of this place. But moments later, they were attacked by members of the Federal Army, led by the mysterious soldier simply called Locus. In the battle that ensued, Simmons, Grif, Caboose and Tucker, also on the Blue Team, managed to escape with the New Republic, but the rest of their friends, Sarge, Donut and Lopez on the Red Team and Agent Washington on the Blue Team, were incapacitated and captured by the Feds.

Though despondent by the loss, the Republic's leader, Vanessa Kimball, informed the escapees that their friends were still alive, but the only way they could get them back was if they joined the New Republic and helped train up new squads of soldiers for their battle against the Feds. Now just a few weeks later, Simmons, Grif and Caboose were leading their respective squads in their first great mission: clearing the Feds out of this facility.

The security lock bleeped, the password showing up onscreen: PASSWORD12.

"Here we go," Simmons cried, drawing his rifle.

As the doors slid open, Caboose whipped out his assault rifle and charged into the room, screaming at the top of his lungs as he emptied his full clip into the room. After a while, Simmons and Grif peeked inside… to find that Caboose had left dozens of bullet holes into the wall.

"Did we win?" Caboose asked hoarsely.

"No," Simmons sighed, stepping into the room. "Apparently we've unlocked one of several security doors."

"Oh, so I talk on the radio and it's jeopardizing the mission," Grif scoffed. "But that happens and everything's fine?"

"Shush, Grif," Caboose hissed, reloading his gun. "They might hear you."

Simmons hacked the next lock and stood back. "Doors opening."

Caboose charged into the next room with a yell and fired at the next wall. Grif just followed behind, sighing and shaking his head.

* * *

On a cliff overlooking the facility, Bitters switched on the radio. "Captain Grif, we have visual on the main compound. Over."

"What's it look like?" Grif asked.

Bitters looked around, observing the dozens of white armored Federal soldiers flanking the base. "Well, on a scale of one to ten… I'd say we're pretty fucked."

"Stow that kind of talk, Bitters," snapped the Blue Team leader, Smith. "Our CO's put a lot of effort into this plan, so why don't you show a little faith? Right, Captain Caboose?"

"Yes," Caboose agreed.

* * *

Inside the base, Simmons and Grif crept down the hallway as carefully as they could, keeping their guns trained for any danger.

"Alright, we're almost there," Simmons hissed. "Is everyone ready?"

"Ready," the team lieutenants replied.

"Ready," Caboose added, following them.

"Captain Simmons," the Red Team leader spoke up. "Jensen has something to say to you."

Simmons suddenly froze in his tracks. "Uh… Yes, Jensen."

Grif frowned as he heard a female voice speaking with a pronounced lisp speaking to Simmons. "I jutht wanted to thay that no matter what happenth, it'th been an honor working with you, thir."

"Uh… thank you, lieutenant," Simmons stammered awkwardly. "That is… yes. Uh…" He cleared his throat and spoke in a firm voice. "Affirmative. Over."

Grif swapped a very puzzled look with Caboose. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?" Simmons asked.

"Did you just stroke out for a second? You sounded like Caboose."

"Um, if he's me, can I be him?" Caboose asked.

"Shut up!"

"Look at me, I'm smart," Caboose spoke in a deep voice, imitating Simmons and failing somewhat. "I like slide rules and protractors. Oh, I can't wait to do some protracting."

"So I still have problems talking to girls," Simmons retorted. "So what?"

"Yeah," Grif scoffed. "It is, especially when your squad consists entirely of girls. Now man up!"

"Oh man," Simmons whined, throwing his arms over his head. "This is like junior high all over again!"

"What?" Grif asked, puzzled.

"Why do I have to play in the woman's league?" Simmons moaned in a high-pitched voice. "I wanna be a mathlete, Dad! A mathlete!"

"Yeah, I don't want to be Simmons anymore," Caboose murmured, backing away from Simmons.

"Goddamn it, do I have to do everything around here?" Grif stepped forward, pushed Simmons' arms aside, took off his helmet and delivered a powerful slap to his cheek.

"OW!" Simmons yelped, shaking his head. "Thanks, I needed that."

"Yeah, sure," Grif muttered, waving his hand. "Man, I always forget you're a cyborg." He handed Simmons' helmet back and switched on his radio. "Everybody, get ready. We're going on my mark."

Simmons put his helmet back on then drew out his rifle.

"Three… Two… One!"

With that, Grif, Simmons and Caboose charged around the corner… and ran smack into four Federal soldiers coming the opposite direction.

"Every man for himself!" Grif screamed, fleeing back the way they'd come.

Simmons and Caboose hared after him, firing their guns in various directions.

"Run, body!" Grif yelled, racing out the base. "It's important that I live!"

On the cliff, Bitters spotted his leader and jumped to his feet. "Wait, what? What's going on?"

"Suppressing fire!" another Gold Team soldier yelled, firing at one Fed soldier.

Unfortunately, the soldier he'd shot at was manning a turret, which he immediately turned and fired at the Gold Team, driving them back along the cliff.

Below them, three more Republic soldiers came charging into the fray. "Reinforcements on the way!" one soldier yelled, but moments later, they were immediately flattened… by the Gold Team falling off the cliff and landing right on top of them.

At the same time, Caboose ran across the battlefield, screaming and firing his gun, running right past the crates where his team was hiding behind.

"Captain Caboose, NO!" Smith yelled in dismay, running after his leader.

Just then, a Warthog-Class jeep came barreling out of the garage, driven by Jensen and the Red Team.

"Don't worry, we're coming!" Jensen yelled.

But as she drove towards Simmons, she accidentally hit Smith and crashed into the cave wall. "Thorry, thorry, thorry!" she cried out. "Why are there tho many pedalth on thith thing?!"

Simmons, Grif and Caboose didn't notice the trouble their lieutenants were in. They were too busy running around the battlefield, screaming in panic.

Then suddenly a loud alarm rang out from the base and everybody stopped in their tracks… including the white armored soldiers.

"What the hell was that?!" came an angry voice from behind them.

Everybody turned round as another tan armored soldier stepped onto the battlefield, this one with cobalt blue trim and a blue visor. Grif and Simmons winced slightly for they recognized the soldier as Vanessa Kimball, leader of the New Republic. Caboose however still ran across the field yelling before looking around and stopping in his tracks. "Oh, we stopped."

Kimball sighed and put her hand to her visor. "What is the point of these training exercises if you people aren't going to work together?"

"But we did!" Simmons protested. "We had team names and everything!"

"Grif was Gold!" Caboose added.

"Orange!" Grif cut in.

"You had a plan, you were organized, but once again you crumbled under pressure!" Kimball broke off with a sigh. "Lieutenants, debrief with your CO's. Everyone else, round up all your training weapons and uniforms. That's enough Capture the Flag for today!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Grif cried out, pulling off his helmet. "And what the hell are we supposed to say? 'Hey guys, sorry you still suck. Turns out we suck too! At least we have something in common!'"

"Tell them what they need to hear," Kimball replied. "Tell them that they can do this, and that next time they will be better."

Simmons frowned as he took off his helmet. "So you want us to lie to them."

"No, I don't." And with that remark, Kimball turned and left the training ground.

Meanwhile, the Team lieutenants met up with their leaders.

"You… wanted to talk to uth, thirth?" Jensen asked with a salute.

Grif sighed and shook his head in dismay. "I hope Tucker has it better than this."

* * *

Some distance away from the New Republic's hidden base, Tucker and Felix were scouting out a real Federal Army outpost. Felix was scoping out the scene with the scope on his sniper rifle while Tucker waited back with his squad. As he looked out, he felt a little pang of guilt when he saw Felix's steel-gray armor, thinking back to his leader and close friend, Agent Washington. Sure, Felix's armor had orange trim as opposed to Wash's bright yellow, but every time he saw it, Tucker still missed his leader. But that's why he was here; he was trying his best for Wash.

"Hey, Felix," Tucker hissed after a few minutes. "You think I could have a turn with that sniper rifle?"

"Absolutely not," Felix grunted.

Tucker sighed and bowed his head.

One soldier, whose armor had aquamarine trim, coughed gently. "Uh… sometimes I like to take my hands and cup them around my eyes. Like little hand binoculars."

"Shut the fuck up, Palomo," Tucker snapped.

* * *

***sighs* Twelve seasons in, and Tucker still doesn't get a turn. Some things never change, I guess.**


	2. Hit and Run

**After the last chapter's tomfoolery, we now get some intense action to balance it out.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Hit and Run

Once he'd scoped out the forces outside the facility, Felix left his outpost and went to inform Tucker and his team. In all honesty, he'd expected to do this mission on his own with a small team of soldiers, but when Kimball had given him the task, Tucker had immediately volunteered himself and his squad to accompany him.

Despite his concern that Tucker was only coming so that he could try and rescue Agent Washington, Felix had reluctantly agreed. Tucker's squad consisted of Private Palomo, who'd added aqua trim to his tan armor, and Privates Rogers and Cunningham, both with green trim.

"It doesn't look good, guys," Felix informed Tucker and his men. "They've really beefed up their security."

"Why?" Rogers asked nervously. "What's goin' on?"

"Well, it could bet that someone from up top is coming to visit," Felix replied. "Or it could be a response to the weapons I stole from this place a few weeks ago."

"Geez, I wonder which one it is," Tucker muttered sarcastically.

"Uh, I think it's pretty obvious that it's the weapons," Palomo put in helpfully, missing his leader's tone.

"Just stop talking," Tucker snapped.

Felix turned to a small box nearby and flicked it open. "We're gonna have to go with Plan B."

"Wait, whaddya mean?" Tucker cried. "What's Plan B?"

Felix took out some small pistols, each with a large grenade on the end, and started handing them out to the squad. "We plant C-4, we leave and then we blow this outpost to hell."

"What?!" Tucker gasped.

"It's a standard hit and run. I've done it a million times, we'll be fine."

"Actually, no, we'll not be fine," Tucker snapped. "I thought we came here to gather intelligence! That's gonna be pretty fucking difficult when their computer system is in about forty thousand pieces!"

Felix shook his head. "Okay, I understand you wanna save your friends. I do, really. But data retrieval is no longer an option. Once we find out where they're holding Wash and the others, the New Republic will do everything they can to save them." He sighed. "But today isn't that day."

Tucker turned away with a sigh. "Yeah, whatever…" It was the same news he'd heard for the last few weeks. Every piece of news about his captured friend lifted his hopes up, but every time, something else came up and his hopes were shattered like glass.

Felix then pulled out a small electronic device. "Now, we've only got one active camo unit. Tucker, that goes to you." He went over to the aqua Spartan and plugged the device into his left gauntlet. "It's a little damaged so try not to run it constantly, only when you need to disappear. Got it?"

"Got it," Tucker replied, already knowing how to work it from experience with another Freelancer in the past.

Felix then turned to the squad. "As for the rest of you, that's up to your captain."

Immediately, the squad turned to Tucker, ready for orders.

"Right." Tucker glanced around the cave for a while then his eyes fell upon a long black cable snaking along the cave floor. With a smile, he drew out his energy sword and switched it on. "Ohh yeah…"

* * *

Ten minutes later, two Fed specialists pulled up outside the cave in a Warthog and climbed out. Earlier, one of their computers had abruptly shut down, and their superior had sent them to investigate the problem.

They entered the cave, keeping an eye out for trouble, and soon they reached the main cable.

"Ah, here's the problem," one specialist stated, holding up one end of the damaged cable. "The rats must have chewed through the wire."

"That is a military-grade reinforced power cable," his colleague noted. "What kind of rats are you talking about?"

The first specialist was silent for a moment. "Um… space rats?"

His friend thought it over. "Yeah, I could see that."

"Well, better patch this up quick." The first specialist took out his tools, but before he could work on the cable, he heard a loud whack and the sound of a body hitting the ground. He turned round and saw his friend lying unconscious on the cave floor. "What the-"

Suddenly he felt a powerful blow from behind him. "OW! The back of my head!" he yelped. As he hit the ground, the last thing he saw were two soldiers in tan armor high-fiving each other before blacking out.

* * *

Five minutes later, while Felix patched up the cable that Tucker had cut, Rogers and Cunningham had dressed themselves up in the specialists' armor.

"Perfect!" Tucker cried, tossing Rogers' helmet aside. "Now you look just like the rest of those assholes."

"That was stupidly fortunate," Felix stated.

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, what if we ended up with two really fat bad guys?" Felix turned to the disguised soldiers. "What size are you, Cunningham, like a medium?"

"Youth extra large, sir," Cunningham replied.

"See? Right there, the whole plan would've been ruined." Felix gave Tucker a stern look, despite the fact that his helmet hid his face. "Just 'cos you watch something on TV, you think that it's a good idea?"

"You don't?" Tucker retorted before shaking his head at Cunningham. "Also, really man? Youth extra large?"

"It's very slimming, sir," Cunningham said.

"Hey, what about me?" Palomo asked."Do I get a disguise?"

"No, Palomo," Tucker said. "You'll be guarding our escape route."

"Oh, okay."

"It's because I don't trust you."

"Got it."

"Honestly, if you were out in the field, you'd probably get all of us killed."

"I can totally see that," Palomo agreed. "Yeah, that'd be me."

"Alright," Felix declared. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Rogers and Cunningham took the Warthog back to base with a cloaked Tucker hitching a lift on the turret. As they pulled up outside the facility, they looked up and spotted Felix climbing along a ledge.

"Okay," Cunningham sighed, climbing out of the jeep. "Just play it cool."

"You really think this plan is gonna work?" Rogers hissed nervously. "I know the Reds and Blues are supposed to be like war heroes, but they all seem kinda dumb."

"Dude, I'm invisible, not deaf," Tucker retorted from behind.

"Oh, sorry, sir," Rogers muttered.

* * *

Up on the ledge, Felix watched as Tucker's squad made their way into the facility. "Okey dokey, boys," he informed them on a secret channel in his helmet radio. "Everyone take your modified sticky detonators, find something that looks expensive and strap a bomb to it. Once you're done, head back to the cave."

"You sure you're gonna be okay out there with your armor, Sir?" Rogers asked.

Felix chuckled to himself. "Don't worry about me, kid."

"Freeze!" a voice yelled behind him just then.

Felix didn't turn immediately; he just pulled out a knife, then he spun around and hurled it right at the Fed behind him, catching him in the throat. As the Fed fell to the ground, dying with a choked gasp, the mercenary smiled and did a fist-pump. "I am fucking awesome!"

* * *

Once inside the facility, Tucker, Rogers and Cunningham split up to set the charges at different points.

Tucker switched off his cloaking device to save some energy then he approached one of the buildings. "Okay, bomb. Do me a favor and don't blow up in my face. Am I right?" He turned round, only to remember he was alone. "Who am I talking to?"

"So, he's really here?" came a voice from behind him.

"Shit!" Tucker hissed, ducking behind some crates, just before two Fed soldiers came around the corner.

"Yep," one of the soldiers replied. "Just came in from the city."

"They still got the Freelancer up there?" his friend asked.

"I dunno. Look it up inside."

"Fuck that, I'm not gonna let him catch me slacking off."

As the soldiers entered the building, Tucker peeked out of cover, his hopes once more on the rise. Those Feds had mentioned a Freelancer, and he knew that there was only one Freelancer on this whole planet it could be. "Wash…"

Just then, Felix's voice came through his radio. "Tucker, what's your status?"

"Good, good," Tucker fibbed, heading towards another building. "Almost done."

Looking through the doorway, he spotted a Fed monitoring a computer. Slowly, Tucker crept into the lab and raised his detonator behind the soldier's head. "Don't move!"

"What the?" the Fed cried, starting to turn.

"I said don't move!" Tucker snapped, pushing his gun against the Fed's helmet. "Turning is moving!"

The Fed gulped nervously and turned back.

"Okay," Tucker hissed. "I want like a hard drive or something, with base locations and classified shit, and any info you've got on Agent Washington and the other dudes you kidnapped a while back."

"Okay, just take it easy," the Fed murmured, pulling out a flash drive from his pocket and plugging it into the computer.

"Captain, we're almost done," Rogers then called over Tucker's radio. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the lab," Tucker replied. "Just give me a sec."

"You're what?!" Felix's voice cut in, having overheard the conversation.

"Dude, chill out," Tucker reassured. "I got this."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Felix yelled. "I specifically told you not to-"

Tucker switched off his radio, cutting off Felix's berate. "Thank you, mute button."

"Alright," the Fed informed him as a progress bar appeared on the computer screen. "The data is copying over onto a flash drive."

"Sweet!" Tucker then punched the back of the soldier's neck, knocking him out. "Ha ha! Who's dumb now?"

"Hey," another soldier cried, running into the lab.

"I surrender!" Tucker yelped, dropping his detonator and raising his hands.

"No, sir," the soldier cried. "It's me, Cunningham."

"Oh right," Tucker sighed in relief, lowering his hands.

"You turned off your radio. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was kinda in the middle of something."

"Well, we've gotta go, like now."

"Yeah, absolutely." Tucker glanced over his shoulder to check on the progress bar which was currently showing 85% completion. "Just one more minute."

"But, sir," Cunningham argued. "I think the Feds are onto us."

"Okay, okay." Tucker started turning towards the screen as the bar neared 100% completion. "We can goooooooo… Now!" Just as the download completed, he pulled out the flash drive with one hand while switching on his cloak with the other.

Suddenly a loud shot rang out, followed by a heavy thud. Tucker turned round to discover Cunningham lying dead on the floor, and as he looked up and saw the cause of his death, his breath caught in his throat, his knees turned to jelly and he dropped to the floor. "Oh shit…"

There, standing in the passageway, holding a shotgun in his hands, was a truly terrifying figure in black-and-green armor. His face was hidden behind a Locus helmet, his deep breaths echoing in the silence like a wraith. His very presence would strike fear into any member of the New Republic, and indeed Tucker himself was terrified, with good reason. For this figure, who had killed dozens of rebel soldiers in his time with the Feds, who made even the Meta seem like a kitten, was responsible for his friends' capture; and his name… was simply Locus.

As two other Fed soldiers ran into the lab, Locus approached Cunningham's body and turned on the loudspeakers on his radio. "Cunningham?" Rogers' voice called out. "Everything okay? Uh, Jason? Man, what's going on? Uhhh, guys, Cunningham isn't responding."

"We've been infiltrated," Locus informed the Feds, his deep acoustic voice sending icy chills down Tucker's spine. "Sound the alarm."

The soldiers nodded and ran out of the lab. Then Locus looked up at the screen and saw the display: Transfer complete. Then he looked down at the unconscious Fed. Then he raised his gun and started stepping closer.

Tucker took shallow breaths as he saw the merciless mercenary approaching him. He tried to back away, but his legs felt like they were trapped in cement. Suddenly a warning flashed up on his helmet's HUD: Equipment Malfunction. _Oh shit, not now,_ he thought to himself. Any minute now…

Suddenly a loud explosion rang out from outside and Locus whirled around to look, seconds before Tucker's cloak failed. With an angry growl, Locus ran out of the lab, leaving Tucker to fall back with a huge sigh of relief. "Ah, fuck…"

* * *

"Goddammit, everyone move! We are aborting the mission!" On the ledge over looking the facility, Felix watched as another charge exploded, sending several Feds flying. "I detonated some of the C4 as a distraction, so get out of there! There's a good chance they'll be searching for, and disarming the bombs!"

Inside the facility, Rogers heard the message as he planted a charge. "Ah, man." Tossing his detonator away, he ran out of the hall.

"Hey, you!" a voice called out. "Stop!"

Rogers turned round, hoping to see Tucker or Cunningham there. But instead, he saw a Fed soldier running towards him. "Uh, yes?"

"You're a specialist, right?" the soldier asked. "Come on, man, we need your help!"

"Oh," Rogers muttered nervously. "Great…"

* * *

"Ah, shit!" Tucker yelled as he fled from the lab. Fed soldiers spotted him and opened fire on him, but he didn't care. He ran hell for leather out of the facility and towards the cave. "Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Another explosion kept the Feds from following him, so he made it safely back to the cave where he paused to catch his breath.

"Tucker!"

"AH!" Tucker jumped in alarm, but calmed down when he saw Palomo. "Jesus, dude!"

"Are you okay?" Palomo asked in concern. "What happened?"

"No!" Tucker yelled then hastily corrected himself, "I mean yes! Where's Felix and Rogers?"

* * *

At that moment, Rogers was following the soldier back towards one of the charges he'd planted earlier, now surrounded by nervous Feds.

"Here," said the soldier who'd called him, pointing at the charge. "You can disarm this, right?"

"Well, I…" Rogers looked nervous, for he didn't actually know how to disarm it. "No, I…"

"Whaddya mean, no?" another soldier cried. "This is your job!"

"Right, I know, uh…" Rogers sighed. "I know."

* * *

Elsewhere, Felix was making his own way back to the caves, but three Fed troopers had spotted him and had cornered him behind a tree. Felix took a moment to catch his breath, then he leapt out and held up one hand, summoning his hard-light shield to deflect the Feds bullets before raising his own gun and taking them out. Another Fed charged out towards him, screaming at the top of his voice, but Felix just turned and swept his leg round, kicking the Fed's legs out from under him.

"Right." Felix then ran off into the cave, where he met up with Tucker and Palomo. "Talk to me, people! Where's Rogers?"

"Not here," Tucker replied.

"Cunningham?"

Tucker sighed and bowed his head. "Locus got him."

"Locus is here?!" Felix raised his sniper rifle and peered through the scope, just as Locus deactivated his own cloak and fired a shot, just missing Palomo's head. "RUN!"

"What about Rogers?" Palomo cried.

"Get down!" Felix ducked behind the cave wall and lifted his detonator.

"No, wait!" Tucker yelled, but he was too late…

* * *

All around the facility, the remaining charges lit up and started beeping.

Rogers was just about to get to work on his charge, when it flashed red. "Oh, son of a bi-"

KABOOOOOOOOMM! That was the last thing Rogers ever saw.

* * *

**Whoa, that was intense! RIP Rogers and Cunningham, we hardly knew you.**


	3. Something Else Entirely

**After the intensity of the last two episodes, consider this a little cooldown before the next action.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Something Else Entirely

Back at the New Republic headquarters, morale was low following the botched training exercise. Each of the squads felt guilty about letting their captains down, but Grif decided to cheer them up by telling them about the Blood Gulch Crew's previous adventures.

"BOOM!" he yelled, throwing his arms out wide. "Huge explosion, you wouldn't believe it! He just shook it off though, like it was nothing, and he comes right at us."

The squads let out a collective gasp, as did the other New Republic soldiers who'd gathered to listen.

"He cut our rocket launcher in half, so Tucker goes in for a stab…" Grif mimed thrusting a sword forward. "But nothing works. That's when I knew what to do."

The soldiers drew in their breath.

"I throw myself on top of him, taking him completely by surprise!" Grif acted out his grapple. "But he has the strength of ten men! No, ten _bears_!"

"Whoa!" the soldiers gasped.

"That's pretty cool," breathed a Blue Team soldier.

"Bears are strong," a Red Team soldier added.

"This guy was invincible," Grif continued, building up the tension. "It looked like nothing was going to stop him!"

"What did you do?" one of the other soldiers cried.

"Huh?" Grif asked, taken aback for a moment. "Oh, we tied a car to him and pushed it off a cliff."

The soldiers fell silent for a tense second.

"That is the most metal thing I've ever heard," breathed Matthews, a member of Gold Team.

And then everyone else burst into rapturous applause.

"Thank you, thank you," Grif chuckled, bowing at the praise. "So the moral of the story is, you never know when random, seemingly unimportant stuff will turn out to be very important, which is why you shouldn't question me when I tell you to build me something like a hammock, or a human slingshot."

At that moment, Simmons came in, looking very confused. "Grif, what are you doing?"

"Just tellin' these guys how we took down the Meta," Grif replied.

Simmons frowned. "Why?"

"Is it true, Simmons?" called his Red Team lieutenant, whose armor had bright pink trim. "Did he really growl like some sort of monster?"

"And did he really have the thtrength of ten bearth?" Jensen added.

"Uh…" Simmons stuttered nervously. "I uh, um… more like, uh, twenty bears."

"Wow!" Jensen gasped.

"So hot!" the other girl agreed.

"_That_ is why," Grif beamed.

Simmons sighed and shook his head. "You're spending _way_ too much time with Tucker."

Just then, the intercom rang out and Kimball's voice spoke out. "Grif, Simmons and Caboose, report to my office immediately."

"Well, guys," Grif announced. "It looks like that's it for today. Run along."

"Awwwww," the crowd moaned, before splitting up back to their sleeping quarters.

"I like the part with the bears," Caboose muttered, leaving the crowd to join his friends.

* * *

Inside Kimball's office, Tucker's mood was at an all-time low. Still shaken by his near miss with Locus, coupled with the terrible deaths of Rogers and Cunningham, things got worse when Felix had discovered his purpose in the labs. The moment they got back to base, Felix had confiscated the hard-drive and took it into Kimball's office.

That had been ten minutes ago, and now Kimball had called in the others, presumably to tell them off for their dismal failures. Sitting behind the main desk, Tucker bowed his head low, looking down at his helmet in his hands, seeing the gloomy look on his dark-skinned face. His one chance of rescuing Wash and the others, snatched from under his nose like a one dollar bill.

"Tucker!" a familiar voice called out just then.

Tucker looked up and saw his friends entering the base, their helmets at their side. He smiled slightly as he saw the looks on their faces; a nonchalant smile on Grif's chubby cheeks, a concerned look from Simmons' cyborg-enhanced eyes, and a huge grin of joy on Caboose's dim face.

"Tucker!" Caboose yelled again, running up to his friend.

"If you hug me, I will shoot you," Tucker warned.

"Ah, it's okay, Tucker," Caboose reassured. "I know you're more into groping. Come on, let's grope."

"When did you get back?" Grif asked.

"A little while ago," Tucker murmured.

Simmons then noticed Tucker's despondent look. "What happened?"

Tucker opened his mouth to speak, but then Felix came into the room and answered for him. "Oh, I'll tell you what happened."

Tucker cringed slightly as Felix stepped up to him, a stern look on his face, then turned to the others. "Captain Tucker here decided to disobey orders and took it upon himself to recover a hard drive full of Federal Army secrets, a decision that only cost him the lives of two of his men."

Tucker closed his eyes, ready for a very tough berating.

But to his surprise, Felix gave a hearty laugh and clapped the aqua Spartan on his shoulder. "That's a pretty damn good trade if I do say so myself!"

"What?" Tucker gasped.

"Man, you should have seen this guy," Felix chuckled. "He was all, 'I don't play by the rules!' Fucking James Bond and shit all over the place! It was crazy!"

"Wait," Tucker cried, getting to his feet. "I thought you were pissed."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I wanted to beat your worthless skull into the ground until it was paste. But look where we are now! You took a risk and it paid off."

"Paid off?! Dude, two of our guys are dead!"

"And two more will probably die tomorrow." Felix gave a dismissive shrug. "Seriously, what don't you people get about that?"

"That's enough, Felix," Kimball warned, stepping into her office.

Felix coughed and stepped aside. "Just sayin'…"

Once Kimball was behind her desk, she began her address to the Spartans while still facing the huge screen on the wall. "Tucker, your choice cost two men their lives… but it also granted us access to valuable information. Whether or not this was the right thing to do is a conclusion you'll have to come to on your own. I'll leave it at that. Right now, the six of us need to have a little talk."

"Could it _not_ be as depressing as the talk we're having right now?" Grif asked.

Not really listening to him, Kimball turned to the group, a smile crossing her face. "I know where your friends are."

At once, the Reds and Blues broke into an amazed uproar.

"You do?!" Simmons gasped.

"Whoa," Grif breathed.

"Yay, I have friends!" Caboose cheered.

"Whoa," Felix cried out, breaking the joy. "When did this happen?!"

"I kept digging through the files Tucker brought back," Kimball explained. "There wasn't much to go off, but eventually I found them. And from the looks of it, they've been moved around a bit."

"Finally, we can rescue Sarge and everything will go back to normal!" Simmons turned to his teammate with a huge grin. "Isn't that great, Grif?"

"'Great' is a strong word, Simmons," Grif replied. "I would've gone with 'tolerable'."

"Don't celebrate just yet," Kimball warned, killing the mood. "As I said, they've been moving around fairly regularly and from the looks of things, it isn't going to stop." She brought up a holographic map on the screen behind her desk and pointed to one sector. "Right now, they're being held in a compound just north of a nearby mountain range, but in about a week, it sounds like they'll be transferred to the capital, a place that is very, _very_ out of our reach."

"So then we go get them now," Simmons declared. "Is that… a thing we can do, right?"

"The compound she's talking about is twice the size of the one Tucker and I raided," Felix told them grimly. "Breaking in would be suicide. Breaking someone out would be… like suicide and a bunch of puppies dying."

Tucker gulped. "How do you know?"

"Because I've tried," Felix replied. "And uh, spoiler alert, it didn't go well."

"Were the puppies okay?" Caboose asked.

Felix sighed and shook his head. "Kimball, please talk some sense into these guys."

"Yes, I'm sorry," Caboose chipped in. "Can we get back to the puppies?"

Kimball switched off her screen then she stepped around her desk and addressed the Blood Gulch Crew. "When I first heard about you four, I envisioned strong, daring, respectable soldiers…"

"But?" Grif hinted.

"But, now that I've come to know you, I found that you're something else entirely. It turns out you're all a bunch of-"

"Cowards," Simmons said.

"Losers," Tucker added.

"Idiots?" Grif asked.

"Spacemen," Caboose put in.

"Misfits," Kimball finished. "You're oddballs that don't exactly fit in, which is why my men all look up to you and why morale has been at an all time high. Because they can relate to you, because together we're an army of underdogs and outcasts." Her tone suddenly became serious. "But as of right now, I cannot authorize a rescue mission of this scale."

The Reds and Blues swapped disappointed looks, but Tucker wasn't surprised at all. Once again, his hopes of rescuing his friends had come crashing down.

But Kimball wasn't finished. "Interestingly enough, you work well when you fight together. But individually, you still haven't shown what it takes to lead others… which is why I am giving you five days; five days to assemble a smaller team, one comprised of the best of each of your platoons. And if you can convince me that you're ready by the end of those five days, then you will have my support."

At this, Tucker's hopes suddenly rose high, but not by much. "Five days?!"

"That's not really a lot of time," Grif agreed.

Kimball shrugged. "Well… it's all you've got, and it starts tomorrow."

Felix glanced at the Spartans then he cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, if this is really happening, I'd like to be paid in advance."

* * *

That evening, inside their joint sleeping quarters, the Blood Gulch Crew sat on their beds, thinking over Kimball's proposition. Their room had two separate sets of bunk-beds; one for the Reds and one for the Blues. Caboose lay on his back on the top of the Blues' bunk, hands behind his head; Tucker sat on the edge of his bed on the bottom, his mind in thought; Simmons stood next the bottom of the Reds' bunk, rubbing grease into the cyborg parts in his arms, and Grif lay on the top bunk, eating his fifth pack of Oreos.

"Five days," Grif muttered, between mouthfuls of Oreo. "Five fucking days. My naps take longer than five days."

"Yeah, and President's Day is Monday," Caboose noted. "So we can't expect people to come in on a holiday because that would be time and a half. And-" He broke off with a gasp and sat up in his bed. "Oh my God, that would be five and a half days!"

Just then, the door slid open and Felix came into the room. "Take my advice, gentlemen; live to fight another day."

"I think I like you better when you thought we we super soldiers," Grif scowled.

Tucker then noticed that Felix was holding a futuristic gun in his hands. "Hey, what's up with that?"

"This is my plasma rifle," Felix replied. "Part of my cut from the hit and run."

"Your cut?" Simmons asked.

"You think these guys have any money lying around? Yeah, right," Felix scoffed. "They pay me in old alien tech. The whole reason Chorus was chosen for colonization was because it showed promising signs of extraterrestrial artifacts. Turns out the UNSC was right; too bad they abandoned the place. But hey, their loss is my very shiny, very valuable gain."

"Wait," Tucker cried, getting to his feet. "Why steal weapons and ammo when we can just use this space laser shit?"

"Because they don't work, genius." So saying, Felix pointed his rifle at Tucker's head and pulled the trigger, making everyone flinch… but the gun just clicked. "See? They're busted. But I'm willing to bet that someone out there would be happy to pay a very large sum of money for these babies!"

"Uh, yeah, wait, I'm sorry, I'm confused," Caboose cut in. "Are they, are they babies or are they lasers? Or are-are they laser babies?"

"Shut up, Caboose," Tucker snapped, smacking his teammate's arm.

"While we're talking business," Felix continued. "If you guys are serious about rescuing your friends by the end of the week, I could always be persuaded to increase my level of assistance, for a one time fee of course." His eyes wandered over to the Spartans' suits of armor. "Maybe something along the lines of an alien energy sword, hmm? Any takers? Tucker?"

"I don't think so," Tucker retorted, snatching his sword away. "If you like the New Republic so much, how come you still charge them for your help?"

"Because when I retire, I want a television the size of a billboard."

Grif let out a long whistle. "That's fucking awesome!"

"Well, that's gonna be bad for your eyes," Caboose added.

"I'm just saying, you could always help us out for free," Tucker said. "You know, mix it up a little!"

"Ah, hmm…" Felix rubbed his chin in thought. "Okay, so you want me to help you rescue your friends, because… what? It's the right thing to do?"

"Yeah," Tucker replied crossly. "It's called 'not being a dick.'"

"Hmm." Felix turned to the Spartans with a derisive look. "You know, if I recall, the first time these people ever asked you for help, you turned them down, figured this whole 'civil war' thing wasn't your problem. In fact, I bet if your friends had never been captured, you'd still refuse to lend them a hand, even if it was 'the right thing to do.'"

The Blood Gulch Crew looked at each other with slight shame, realizing that Felix had a point.

With a smile, Felix turned to leave the room, pausing at the door. "Everyone has their price. I learned that a long time ago… and you're no exception." With that, he left the room, leaving the door to shut on the silent team.

* * *

**Well, he's got the worst team-building speech ever, of all time.**


	4. Teaming with Problems

**And now begins the toughest and longest week of the Reds and Blues' lives.**

_**Beep, beep, beep, beep…**_

**Turn that clock off! I may be paraphrasing 24 here, but there's no need for that! Anyway…**

* * *

Chapter 4: Teaming with Problems

The next morning, the Blood Gulch Crew gathered their respective squads to choose which member would join their elite rescue team, and each member gave their points of reference, some with more gusto than others.

"I just think that…" Matthews stuttered, trying to make his point to his captain, Grif. "If you'd just reconsider, sir. I mean, I've followed your orders since day one, with like the burritos and… And I'd follow you to the end, sir. I really would."

Grif rolled his eyes and turned to his lieutenant. "Bitters, what do I always say?"

"Nobody likes a kiss-ass," Bitters muttered unenthusiastically.

"Correct," Grif commended. "Nobody likes a kiss-ass."

"But, sir," Matthews started before getting cut off.

"Matthews, you are in fact a total kiss-ass," Grif said. "And nobody likes that. Do you like that, Bitters?"

"Nope," Bitters replied lamely.

"See? Bitters doesn't like that, 'cos Bitters here is a maverick, a loose cannon. And everybody loves loose cannons. I'm a bit of a loose cannon myself, aren't I, Bitters?"

"Actually, I'm starting to think you're kinda lazy."

"Ha! See that? Total loose cannon response." Grif chuckled and patted his lieutenant's shoulder. "I respect that, Bitters."

"Whatever," Bitters sighed.

"So," Grif concluded, "as much as it pains me inside, I'm afraid I must deny your request to join our elite team, Matthews."

"Alright, sir," Matthews whimpered, turning to leave. "Whatever you say." And with a sniff, he left.

Grif sighed and shook his head. "Even in defeat, he's such a kiss-ass."

"Grif, hurry up!" Simmons voice rang out.

"Speaking of which," Grif added with a smirk. "Go join the rest of our team, Bitters. We're about to get started."

"Whatever," Bitters muttered, lining up with the other three soldiers while Grif went to join his friends.

Once everyone was assembled, Simmons began the introductions. "Hello, welcome everyone. Thank you for joining us here. Um, why don't we just go down the line and introduce ourselves?"

"Um, hello," Caboose called out. "Uh, yes. My name is Michael J. Caboose."

"Hi, Michael," the four soldiers replied, like AA members.

"No, I mean the recruits," Simmons cut in. "Why do we need to introduce ourselves? They already know us."

"Yes," Caboose agreed. "But do they know the 'real' us?"

"What does that even mean?" Tucker asked puzzled.

"Well, that is a very interesting question, Tucker," Caboose replied. "Why don't you elaborate on those feelings?"

"Oh my God, shut up!" Tucker groaned, slapping Caboose on the back of his helmet then he turned to the soldiers. "Just state your name."

"And tell us a fun fact about yourself," Simmons added.

"Really?" Grif asked in disbelief.

Before Simmons could make a snappy retort, Smith cleared his throat and raised his hand. "Permission to speak, sir."

"Uh, go for it," Tucker replied.

"Thank you, sir." Smith stepped forward and gave a stiff salute. "Lieutenant John-"

"Hey, G.I. Joe, could you drop the act?" Grif interrupted sharply. "We don't have all day."

"Oh, um, very good, sir," Smith muttered, lowering his hand. "My friends call me Smith. I've served the New Republic faithfully for several years, and I believe Captain Caboose is one of the wisest individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sir!" he added with another salute.

**(A.N: …Wait, what?!)**

"Great," Grif groaned, visor-palming. "Another kiss-ass."

Simmons swapped a baffled look with Tucker. "You mean our Caboose?"

"Yes, sir," Smith replied.

"This one right here?" Simmons pointed to Caboose.

"Correct."

"…The blue one?"

"Okay, moving on," Tucker cut in quickly. "Next."

Jensen stepped forward next. "Hello, everyone. I'm Katie Jenthoon. I enjoy vehicle maintenanthe, biology, uh-" She suddenly broke off with a choking gasp, grabbing her throat and collapsing to the ground.

Grif frowned. "Uh, should we do something?"

Finally, Jensen stood up, gasping for breath. "Thorry, choked on my own thpit."

Tucker turned slowly to his maroon mate. "Simmons, what the fuck is this?"

"It was either her or the really hot one that plays volleyball," Simmons blurted out.

"Then what the fuck is this?!"

"She makes me less nervous, okay!" Simmons snapped, covering his visor with both hands. "Just leave me alone!"

"Next!" Grif shouted.

Bitters trundled forward with little panache. "I'm Bitters. My fun fact is that I don't have a… fun fact."

Grif beamed at this. "Total. Maverick!"

"And last but not least," Palomo then chipped in, making Tucker groan. "Private Palomo, slayer of women, wooer of evil! Wait…"

"Is that you fun fact?" Simmons asked.

"No, uh…" Palomo scratched his helmet in thought. "Oh! I'm the only surviving member of Green Team. Suck on that!"

"I fucking hate you, Palomo," Tucker growled.

"Alright," Simmons went on with the briefing. "As you've all been informed, this team has come together for the sole purpose of rescuing the remaining survivors of a UNSC shipwreck from several months back. We all know them as Donut, Agent Washington, and Sarge."

"And maybe a Spanish robot named Lopez," Grif added.

"And maybe an adorable robot named Freckles," Caboose put in.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Tucker cried. "The point is, we've only got five days to train you guys, so we're getting started right now! Now, any questions?"

"Yeah," Smith said. "Who is leading this team?"

"I am!" all four Spartans cried out, immediately swapping baffled looks.

"Uh, what?" Tucker asked.

"Well, I'm obviously the one who should be leading this," Simmons replied. "I'm the most logical of the group."

"Bullshit!"

"_I'm_ the one who set up this entire meeting."

"Yeah," Grif scoffed. "And this meeting blows dicks."

"Wait," Simmons cried. "Why do you wanna be the leader?"

"Well, I'm really starting to get used to all this praise and pampering," Grif said. "And I don't wanna risk losing it all to one of you jerks."

"I could always praise and pamper you, sir!" Matthews called down from above.

"God dammit, Matthews!" Grif bellowed. "What did we just talk about?!"

"Well, I think there's an easy way to settle this," Caboose decided. "Raise your hand if you were the leader of a team any time before joining this army."

"Oh, whatever," Simmons snapped. "That was a fluke!"

"Yep, and I forgot to raise my hand."

"Hey," Tucker butted in. "If you're looking for experience, so far _I'm_ the only one who's been on an actual mission."

Grif quickly started coughing, adding in, "Two people died," between coughs.

"Excuse me, sirs," Smith cut in. "We could always vote."

The four Spartans looked at each other and they quickly decided that was a good idea.

* * *

First on the platform was Simmons. "My fellow soldiers," he stated proudly. "If you elect me as your leader, you're not just voting for a kind, well-mannered leader, you're voting for victory. I've overseen countless skirmishes and calculated my opponent's every move. And although some people may not count Dungeons & Dragons as an acceptable example of military expertise, I beg to differ. A vote for Dick Simmons is a vote for America!"

"But we're not in America," Palomo pointed out.

Simmons deflated at that remark. "Fuck!"

* * *

Next up was Caboose, whose statements were utterly less helpful than Simmons' speech. "…And I will put Kool-Aids in all the water fountains! And we won't have to wear uniforms anymore! And Principal Kimball will allow us… double recess! Recess, recess, recess…"

"Caboose, you're not running for class president," Tucker groaned.

"No, don't you see?" Smith cut in with breathless gusto. "We won't need uniforms anymore because the war will finally be over. Kimball will send us out into the world and we'll never have to raise another gun ever again." He looked up at Caboose with shining eyes. "My God, he has such a way with words!"

"Is this guy for real?" Grif snorted.

"Wait," Simmons cut in. "What about the Kool-Aid in the water fountains?"

"Oh yeah," Smith realized. "That sounds awesome."

* * *

Then it was the turn of Grif, who simply stated, "Dibs!"

"What?" Simmons cried.

"I call dibs on the team. Dibs."

"You can't call dibs on the team!" Tucker shouted.

"You sure?"

"Grif!" Simmons yelled.

"Alright, whatever," Grif muttered crossly, stepping off the platform. "I don't wanna be leader anyway."

* * *

**(A.N: Could someone please run a check on the International Dibs Protocol and see if team leadership isn't listed there?)**

* * *

And finally it was Tucker's turn. "S'up, guys, Tucker here." He paused for a moment. "Uh, speech… speech… Oh! I've always said I'm a lover and not a fighter." He smiled and winked at Jensen. "I'm lookin' at you, Jensen."

"Me?" Jensen asked.

"Yeah, tell your volleyball friend I said that. Anyways-"

"Oh, please God," a voice cut in. "Tell me you guys haven't been standing around talking all morning."

Tucker turned and spotted Felix standing by the platform, shaking his head in dismay. A look of anger crossed the aqua Spartan's face then turned back to the lieutenants. "Alright, look, you want the truth? I don't wanna be your leader. Being a leader totally sucks. It's hard work, and you have to put up with people you hate! But I wanna get my friends back and seeing as that's our mission, I will deal with whatever bullshit I have to do to make it happen!" He turned to rejoin his friends but then stopped. "And if I was holding a mic, this would be the part where I drop it."

The recruits were silent for a moment, swapping thoughtful looks.

"I vote for Tucker," Jensen decided.

"Yeah, I vote for Tucker," Bitters replied reluctantly.

"Me too," Smith agreed.

"Yeah," Palomo added.

"Congratulations, Tucker!" Grif cheered mockingly. "You got the job, that you hate."

"Yeah, great, happy for you," Felix agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he began to slow-clap. "So did you guys wanna start training at some point? Or, sorry, would you prefer to keep dicking around? Because by all means, I could watch this train wreck all day. Really, it's like the Hindenburg disaster, ya ever see that? Just absolutely breathtaking… until you realize everyone's screwed."

* * *

**Jeez, Felix, show a little more faith, why don't you? This is just the beginning.**


	5. Training Daze

**Recruitment and leader appointing over, let's get to the practice.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Training Daze

With delicate fingers, Simmons finished his work on Smith's helmet before handing it back to him. "Okay, put it on then press the button on your left cheek. Everyone else, press yours too."

Smith did so and the other soldiers watched as a small red light began to flash in the top of his visor. Then they looked at each other and saw the light on their visors too.

"Eureka!" Jensen cheered.

"Is it working?" Palomo asked then he yelled, "Hello! Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" Bitters snapped. "Jesus. What's the point of this again?"

"This is going to make you all better fighters," Tucker explained. "Tell 'em, Simmons."

"Jensen and I have installed capture software into all of our helmets," Simmons explained, "allowing us to transmit what we saw on the battlefield to a local server."

"Wait," Palomo interrupted. "Do they only record on the battlefield, or are they recording all the time?"

"All the time, duh."

"Uh, I don't know how I feel about that."

"Dude, it's fine," Tucker reassured.

"But what if it records us doing something embarrassing?" At that point, Palomo's eyes wandered in a certain direction. "Like looking at Jensen's butt or something?"

"Ekthcuse me?" Jensen cried.

"Just don't look at Jensen's butt, Palomo," Simmons sighed.

"Well, now I'm way more aware of her butt than usual, and it's throwing me off."

"Palomo!" Tucker snapped.

"You know what?" Palomo quickly stated, turning his head away from Jensen. "I'm just going to look at the ceiling."

"I still don't see how this is supposed to make us any better," Bitters said.

"It's like this," Tucker explained. "Sometimes you're with a lady, right? And she wants to spice things up. So you're like boom! Video camera. And she's into it and then you're like, 'Ohh yeah!' But what's even better is that later you can go back and look at those tapes and figure out what was really working and what you can do better."

"So, it's like football coaches reviewing clips of past games?" Smith put in.

"Uh… Sure, if you're into football coaches and that works better for you, I guess. No judgements."

Just then, Grif joined the group. "All right, we're good to go."

"You set up the training weapons?" Simmons asked.

"I told someone else to set up the training weapons."

"You make a great manager."

"I've said it for years."

"Oh sorry, I meant terrible," Simmons corrected. "You make a terrible manager."

"Whatever," Grif dismissed. "You say tomato, I order a subordinate to say to-mah-to."

"Okay," Tucker declared, clapping his hands together. "So our mission today will be to disarm and apprehend an enemy soldier."

"Take out one guy?" Smith asked. "That's do-able."

"With any other soldier, yes. But our target is Felix."

Nearby, Felix was sitting on a crate, sharping his knife when he heard Tucker's statement. "Uh, what?"

"If we can take out the best fighter in the New Republic, I say we stand a pretty good chance against any one of those Feds."

"Yeah, I don't agree to this," Felix argued, sheathing his knife.

"You don't have to," Tucker replied. "Just do what you normally do, but know that you'll have a giant bulls-eye painted across your back."

"Alright, fine," Felix retorted, getting to his feet. "Bring it on, tough guy."

"I will. And when we capture you, you're gonna tell Kimball that we're approved for the mission."

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Great!" Felix then fell silent.

Tucker frowned. "So… are you just going to stand there, or what?"

"No, I was sticking my tongue out at you," Felix replied rather sheepishly. "But, I-I guess I'm wearing a helmet. So… shut up." With that, he turned and walked away.

Tucker turned to the others and smiled. "We got this."

* * *

Later that day, the Reds and Blues and their squad gathered in the monitoring room, meeting up with two New Republic soldiers next to a widescreen TV.

"Thanks for joining us, everyone," said one soldier whose armor had green trim. "Private Ganoosh and I were given the task of editing down all of the footage from your training session."

The other soldier, Ganoosh, who had black trim on his armor, nodded. "We took what we believed to be the more… 'eye-opening' moments from today's event, in hopes that they might help you strategize more in the future."

"Like a highlight reel?" Simmons asked.

"Like a reel," the green soldier corrected.

"Why don't we get started?" Ganoosh said, switching on the TV and pressing some buttons.

At once, the screen lit up, showing static at first, but then an image appeared, showing Smith and Bitters gathered in a room.

"Hey guys!" Palomo's voice called out. "Welcome to my helmet cam! Uh… today, we're gonna be trying to take down Felix. Sooo, let's see how it goes. Could be bad. Could be good. Could be in the middle."

"Who are you talking to?" Smith asked.

"Uh, the audience."

The image then cut to a shot through Bitters' camera. "What audience? We're recording this for ourselves. _You're_ the audience!"

Cut back to Palomo's POV. "Oh yeah! Hi me!"

"Hi, Palomo," called Palomo, waving at the screen.

"Can we skip this part?" Tucker groaned.

"Sure!" The green soldier fast-forwarded the image, muttering to himself, "Not like we worked hard on this or anything."

"Huh?" Tucker asked.

"Nothing," the soldier replied.

The video then continued through Tucker's video camera, as he, the other captains and their recruits hid behind some rocks, spying on Felix who was talking to two New Republic soldiers.

It then cut to Grif's cam as Tucker crouched down. "Okay, Felix is right there."

Grif moved his camera to his lieutenant. "Bitters, hand me a flashbang."

"Ohhh right, um," Bitters muttered. "About that…"

Cut to Tucker's cam, as Felix walked away. "Hurry up, he's getting away!"

Cut to Bitters' POV. "I don't have any."

"I told you to grab them!" Grif snapped.

"Yeah, I wasn't _really_ listening."

"What?!"

Cut to Simmons' POV. "World's. Worst. Manager."

"Let's not argue semantics, Simmons," Grif growled.

"That's not what that word means," Bitters said.

Cut to Tucker's POV. "Does anyone have a fucking grenade?"

Cut to Smith's POV. "I gave mine to Caboose."

"You what?!" Tucker cried.

Cut to Caboose's POV. "Fire in the hole." He tossed the grenade which bounced off the rock and then exploded in a blinding flash of light.

The rest of the video was blotted by static on all cameras, but the squad's screams of agony and disbelief could still be heard.

The green soldier burst out laughing. "Fucking idiot!"

"Yeah," Ganoosh chortled. "I could watch this for hours!"

"Jesus Christ," Grif moaned. "How long is this video?"

"Hours! I just fucking said it! Pay attention!"

"Does it get any better?" Simmons groaned, visor-palming.

"Define 'better'," the green soldier replied.

"Come on, let's go," Tucker sighed.

"Go where?" Grif asked.

"To try this again," Tucker replied, leading the squad out.

As he watched them go, Ganoosh rubbed his hands in delight. "This is gonna be good."

"I'll make some popcorn," the green soldier said.

* * *

For the next couple of days, Tucker, Caboose, Simmons and Grif continued training their squad, hoping that at least one of their videos would show Kimball that they were improving. They ran laps around the base, with Caboose running far in the lead and Grif lagging far, far behind. They did push-ups, even though Grif and Bitters always sat to the side, counting off idly with the others. And after each session, they had another go at taking out Felix.

But no matter how hard they tried, Ganoosh and the green soldier only seemed to choose the most embarrassing footage to edit into their tape.

One shot, for example, showed Tucker's POV as he crept up on Felix who was chatting to the Medic.

"What if I am too good-looking?" Felix asked, leaning against the wall with one hand. "I mean, i-it's possible to scientific-"

Then Tucker charged out of hiding, screaming at the top of his voice, only to smack right into Felix's hardlight shield and crash to the ground. "No fair."

It then cut to Simmons' POV as he, Grif, Smith and Palomo spied on Felix from on top of a hill. "He's holding a training gun, right?"

Smith stood up to take a look, only to get shot in the shoulder and sent flying back. "OW! Yes, sir."

"Well, that's good to know," Palomo murmured.

And after watching the video, both the editing soldiers never failed to burst out laughing.

"What a dope!" Ganoosh chortled after one such viewing.

Even Caboose started to laugh, finishing with, "Yeah, I don't get it."

And each time, Tucker would get angry and lead the team out for more training.

* * *

By the end of the fourth day, the video that Ganoosh and his friend compiled now looked more like an entry to America's Funniest Home Videos.

It started with Tucker leaping out from behind some crates to catch Felix - "Surprise, motherfucker!" - only to fly right over his head, fall right off a cliff and land with a splash in the lake below.

It then cut to Jensen's POV as she spied on Felix from afar. "Target thighted. Headed towardth- AH-CHOO!" Her camera was then blotted out with her sneeze. "Uh… anyone elthe have eyeth on the target?"

Cut to Smith's POV. "Negative."

Cut to Bitters' cam. "Uh no."

Cut to Palomo's POV as he looked at Jensen's butt. "Yeah, I got nothin'."

By now, it wasn't just Ganoosh and his friend who were watching; several other New Republic soldiers had gathered to watch the video. Jensen turned to glare at Palomo, who quickly turned away. "Lookin' at the ceiling!"

The video then showed Tucker's POV as he ran towards Felix. "Hey Felix, catch!"

He then tossed a grenade out, but to his surprise, Felix actually caught it then started counting. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…"

"Oh no!" Tucker cried, turning to run for it. "No, no, no, no, no!"

But a split-second later, the grenade landed at his feet and immediately exploded, cutting out his footage.

It then cut to Grif's POV as he watched Felix from behind a wall and then turned to Simmons, who, using his hand, pointed out with two fingers, then mimed walking followed by waving on the ground and finished with a few finger snaps.

"At what point do you think I knew what that meant?" Grif asked puzzled.

Then Felix entered the room and quickly noticed them.

"Ah shit," Grif muttered, moments before Felix punched him in the face and cut out his video.

It wasn't the end of the video, but everyone was too busy laughing their asses off to continue watching.

At the back, Grif winced in dismay, Simmons did a visor-palm and Tucker just covered his head in his hands. Caboose of course was too dim to understand what everyone was laughing about.

But the recruits were starting to chuckle too, more at their captains than at themselves.

"Okay, that was actually pretty funny," Smith chuckled.

Angry and embarrassed, Tucker left the bunker and spotted Felix sitting on a crate at the back. "Hey, you!"

"You know," Felix sniggered. "I have to admit, I've never seen these guys laugh so much before."

"Why are you being so hard on us?!" Tucker snapped.

"Come again?"

"All we need is a green light from you, and Kimball lets us save our friends. So why the hell can't you just lighten up for once?!"

"Because you will die!" Felix yelled.

Tucker stopped, shocked at that outburst.

Felix sighed and got off the crate. "You know, for people who've done so much, you really are just a bunch of idiots, aren't you?"

"That's what we said from the start!" Tucker cried.

"So then why are you trying to still be something you're not?!" Felix countered.

"FELIX!" came Kimball's bellow from behind them.

Felix gave another sigh and shook his head. "Whether you go or not is ultimately up to her. But risking the lives of more people… that's on you."

"I thought you didn't care about losing people," Tucker recalled.

"I don't," Felix confirmed. "But you do." And he turned and left.

Kimball then approached Tucker. "We need to talk."

"Can it not be as depressing as the talk we're having right now?" Tucker sighed.

"Well, I can't make any promises," Kimball replied, leading Tucker away.

* * *

**Never before has an episode of Red vs. Blue left me with such mixed feelings.**


	6. Reflections

**And now, a bit of an insight into the Chorus civil war.**

* * *

Chapter 6: Reflections

Instead of heading into her office, Kimball led Tucker down a long tunnel until they came out onto a ledge overlooking a vast underground lake lit up by glowing patches of greenery.

"I like to come down here when I need to think," Kimball explained, sitting on the edge of the balcony. "It's peaceful."

Tucker glanced around in wonder. "It's really… glowy."

"That's the algae," Kimball replied. "Don't touch it, it's radioactive."

"Oh." Tucker quickly drew his hand away from a patch of algae and sat down next to Kimball. "Tranquil."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, then Kimball spoke. "Tucker, I'd like to apologize for Felix's behavior. He was out of line."

"Yeah, he's kind of an asshole," Tucker agreed.

"He's just worried."

"Riiight," Tucker drawled sarcastically. "I could really feel his concern when he dislocated my shoulder yesterday."

"He puts on a tough guy act, but… deep down, I know he cares about you guys."

Tucker shook his head. "Kimball, I hate to break it to you, but the dude doesn't give a shit about any of this. He's just in it for the money."

Kimball sighed and bowed her head. "It's… more complicated than that."

"Oh." Tucker gave a crooked smile. "Are you banging?"

"Jesus, no!" Kimball yelled.

"Just sayin'. Guy does stuff for money…"

"We are not banging!"

Tucker slyly cocked his head to one side. "So, you're single?"

"Shut up!" Kimball snapped, smacking his hand. She took a breath to calm down then continued, "Felix may not be fighting for the same reasons we are, but he has more than enough motivation to win this war."

"What do you mean?"

Kimball turned and looked out at the lake. "Things weren't always this bad. The tides have turned time and time again, and we've come _so close_ to victory, only to be pushed back to the brink of defeat. But whenever things looked their worst, Felix was there with vehicles or weapons or even just a plan of attack." She turned back to the aqua Spartan. "I never wanted to be a soldier, Tucker. None of us did. But Felix? He _chose_ this lifestyle and he chose it because he's good at it."

"You know, for his boss," Tucker noted, "you really make it sound like you need him more than he needs you."

"Well, I wasn't always his boss," Kimball admitted. "He was in this fight before I was even an officer."

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Tucker, I am the fourth person to lead the New Republic."

His other eyebrow went up. "And I repeat, what?"

"Our first leader was killed in action. The second was assassinated at what we had been told would be a peace treaty, and the third was blown out of the sky while trying to leave Chorus for help." Kimball turned to Tucker, only to find that he had shuffled himself several feet away from her. "What are you doing?"

"Call me crazy, but I suddenly don't feel as safe around you," Tucker replied.

Kimball chuckled. "I guess my position does have a pretty quick turnover."

"Okay," Tucker beamed, shuffling right next to her. "Now you're talking my language!"

"Touch me, and you'll sink to the bottom of the lake," she warned.

"No touching!" Tucker yelped, shuffling a few inches away.

"That's what I thought."

"So Felix has been on the rebels' payroll for a long time. What makes you think he won't just up and leave whenever he's made enough money? I know I would…" Tucker broke off nervously when he caught Kimball's glare. "Hahaha, I mean, if I wasn't so invested in your cause."

"Like I said, Felix has more than enough motivation to _win_ this war. The thing that keeps him going?" Kimball paused for a moment then turned to Tucker. "It's the same thing that's kept us from victory for so long. It's what took your friends… It's Locus."

Tucker's eyes became wider than a Warthog's tires and his jaw dropped. "Whaaaat?!"

* * *

"Men! Front and center on the double!"

At this angered command, the four recruits came running out of their sleeping quarters and lined up in front of Grif, who was tapping his foot in anger.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Smith asked

"Oh, you better believe something is wrong, Private Smith!" Grif retorted.

"Wait, I thought we were lieutenants," Bitters cut in.

"_I'm_ a private," Palomo added.

"Lieutenant, private, whatever!" Grif snapped. "Just listen to your captain!"

"I thought Tucker was our captain," Bitters interrupted again.

"No, Tucker is our _leader_," Palomo corrected. "I think Grif's still a captain."

"Are we thtill lieutenantth?" Jensen put in.

"Well, I don't see why not," Smith replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, is this the line for the bathroom?" Caboose spoke up, having joined the recruits.

"JUST LISTEN TO YOUR CAPTAIN!" Grif bellowed.

Hearing the racket, Simmons came in. "Okay, I'll bite. What's going on?"

"We have had a major breach of security, Simmons!" Grif explained furiously. "A major fucking breach!"

Simmons frowned. "We have?"

"Someone from this squad has stolen from my very secret and very personal food stash."

"Oh, right. God help us if you only have nine meals a day."

"Oh, this wasn't just petty theft, Simmons," Grif growled. "This was murder."

"Uh, yeah, uh, I didn't do it!" Caboose cried out. "Now we all agree that it was the tank's fault." The recruits all stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"Focus, people!" Grif yelled, getting their attention back. "A little, dabby, jelly cream pie I've been saving for emergencies is now missing and presumed eaten!"

"No!" Simmons gasped in mock horror. "I don't believe it!"

"Neither can I!" Grif retorted, too angry to notice Simmons' sarcasm.

"You've knowingly had food within arm's reach and haven't eaten it yet?"

"I have been hiding it since basic training, Simmons."

"Wait…" Simmons grimaced. "But that would mean it was… years old?!"

"How many years?" Palomo asked, equally stunned.

"Let's not get into specifics," Simmons said quickly. "Let's just say it's old."

"And still so young," Grif sniffed.

"That's disgusting."

"Oh, I know!" Grif yelled, getting over his despair quite fast. "But we're about to find the sick son of a bitch, so don't you worry about that!"

"Yeah, he's probably got indigestion."

"Yeah, even though we all blame the tank," Caboose added, "I kinda feel like Church had something to do with it too."

"You see, only one man in this squad knew about my food locker. He'd seen it after _every_ training mission I gave him while he was in my squad." Grif paced down the lined up recruits. "After every single raid on the mess hall, he reported back to me and I thought I could trust him, but it turns out I was wrong. Isn't that right…" He raised his arm and pointed it out at his suspect. "Bitters!"

The others turned to face Bitters, and Grif's eyes narrowed. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?!"

Bitters just gave a nauseous burp and his face turned green. "I think my stomach is dying…"

"Damn it, Bitters!" Grif snapped. "I thought you were cool! But it turns out you're nothing but a lazy, good-for-nothing, dirtbag!"

"Hey!" Matthews yelled, running out of his bunk. "Leave him alone!"

"Shut it, Simmons!" Grif screamed.

Matthews blinked in confusion. "Si-Simmons?"

"Oh, wait," Grif suddenly corrected. "I-I mean…"

"Grif," Simmons gasped, in genuine disbelief this time. "You're starting to sound like Sarge."

"What the…? I…" Grif stared down at his hands in complete horror. "Simmons, what is happening to me?"

"I think you're having a mental breakdown!"

"Yeah, those are my favorite kind," Caboose said.

Ignoring him, Simmons grabbed his teammate's shoulders and stared right into his eyes. "Being thrust into a position of power must be putting too much stress on your brain! Now it's defaulting to what you subconsciously perceive to be the symbol of leadership: Sarge!"

Grif pulled back in alarm and stared around him frantically. "That's not true! That's impossible!" But he searched his feelings and somehow knew it to be true, and that thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOOOOOOOOOO!"

The squad just watched in silence before swapping puzzled looks.

"Do you guys have any idea what's going on?" Palomo asked.

"Not in the thlightetht," Jensen admitted.

"I-I think I'm gonna vomit," Bitters groaned, clutching his stomach.

"Groth," Jensen murmured.

"D-don't let me drown in my helmet."

* * *

Tucker shook his head, still in shock. "What does Locus have to do with any of this?"

"When the Federal Army heard we had hired a mercenary to help our side, they decided to do the same," Kimball explained. "But they didn't find just any contract killer. They found Felix's oldest rival. His ex-partner: Locus."

"What?!" Tucker cried. "So you're telling me Felix used to be friends with that psycho?!"

"Not exactly." Kimball gazed out across the lake, remembering the tales Felix had told them when he'd heard of Locus's arrival. "They fought together in the Great War, and their squad saw one of the worst battles in UNSC history. Felix and Locus never got along. They fought over everything, but considering what they were up against, they banded together… and they survived. But surviving isn't always enough."

She closed her eyes and bowed her head. "When the war was over, many soldiers had a difficult time returning to civilian life. And some of them weren't able to return at all. Felix and Locus were always competitive. But when Locus signed up with the Feds, I think Felix took it as a final challenge."

"Final challenge?" Tucker asked.

"Locus _knew_ that his mission would mean killing his former ally, but he took it anyway. Either the money was too good or Locus wanted to know, once and for all, which of them was better. We all have our reasons for fighting, Tucker. And I know that yours are your friends."

Tucker didn't reply.

Kimball let out a breath and got back to her feet. "Your five days are almost up, and I don't know when we're going to get another chance at this."

"You know, I think I respond better to _positive_ reinforcement," Tucker muttered sourly.

"I'm just saying, you should make the most of the time you have left." Kimball smiled and patted Tucker's shoulder. "Your squad may be improving slowly, but they're improving nonetheless. You just need to keep trying."

"Right, because _that's_ been working so well."

Kimball just nodded. "Feel free to come by my office if you ever need anything, Tucker." And with that, she turned and left.

Tucker sat alone, staring out at the still waters. It was true that his squad were improving, but it was just too slow for him. And trying? All he ever did was try, and never once did they get anywhere closer to succeeding. To make matters worse, Felix, who had praised them the first time he met them, was now criticizing their strategies and making them look like bumbling clowns in front of their own squads. Worst of all, he wouldn't even care if any of their soldiers died on their watch!

That last thought filling his mind with anger, Tucker stood up and lifted his head. It was time to make a decision. Time to stop wasting time and do something!

* * *

The squad members had gone to take Bitters to the medic, leaving their leaders alone. Grif was lying on the ground, still sobbing in despair, Simmons was sitting on a crate nearby, waiting for him to shut up, and Caboose of course was lost in his own little world.

Then Caboose looked up. "Ah, fun's over. Tucker's back."

Simmons turned and saw the aqua Spartan coming towards them. "So, what's up?"

"Tucker! Tucker, come here!" Grif called out, jumping to his feet. As Tucker came closer, the orange Spartan grabbed his chest-plate and pulled him closer, a frantic look on his face. "Tell me I'm cool! Tell me I'm lazy and that I don't play by the rules!"

"What?" Tucker asked puzzled.

"I don't wanna Southern accent!" Grif sobbed, burying his head in Tucker's chest.

"Yarr, drop and give me booty!" Caboose growled with a pirate accent.

Tucker just raised an eyebrow and turned to Simmons.

"We're dealing with some issues," Simmons explained.

"Well, hurry up and get over it," Tucker said, pushing Grif away. "I need you guys to meet me at the bunks in ten minutes!"

"Why?" Simmons asked as Tucker turned to go. "What's going on?"

Tucker paused and turned to face his friends. "We're leaving."

* * *

**What?! That's a shocker right there!**


	7. Self Assessment

**A bold plan of action is underway as we speak.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Self Assessment

When Simmons, Grif and Caboose came to their bunk a few minutes later, they found Tucker already there, loading his weapons.

"We're here," Simmons announced. "Now what did you mean by 'leaving'? Where are we going?"

"Is it to the park? Ooh I know, it's the beach!" Caboose's joy then faded quite quickly. "Wait a minute, you're not taking me to the vet, are you?"

"No," Tucker replied, holstering his pistol. "We're going to break into that compound tomorrow and bust out our friends."

"But we still have some time left to train the squad," Simmons protested. "Why would we leave now?"

"Because the squad's not coming with us."

"Are they going in a separate car?" Caboose asked.

"No."

"Ah, so they're flying. You know, I have an extra bag to check. Is that gonna be a problem, 'cos-"

"No, Caboose," Tucker cut in. "We're going on this mission alone."

"Alone with the squad. Got it."

Tucker gave an angry sigh. "Grif, could you punch Caboose for me? I'm kinda busy."

"Sure." Grif smacked Caboose on the back of his helmet. "Wait, going alone? Why would we do that?"

"I don't know if you guys have noticed, but our super-elite team sucks." Tucker shook his head. "There's no way they'll be able to pull off a rescue mission."

"We don't know that," Simmons argued. "Kimball could still pass us."

"I'm not talking about passing. I'm talking about our trainees getting blowing up or getting shot or disintegrated or something."

"Oh. Yeah, that's a problem."

Tucker sighed again as he hooked his sword to his belt. "Look, Felix was right. We're just gonna end up getting more people killed."

"So you're saying we should get ourselves killed instead?" Grif asked baffled.

"Hey, we've done crazier things than this," Tucker replied. "Remember that time we fought like a bajillion hundred robots? We didn't fuck that up."

"We had Church," Simmons recalled.

"Okay, well, what about C.T.? Or the Meta?"

"We got lucky."

"Bullshit! Now maybe we can't _teach_ a bunch of people how to fight, but the four of us can totally pull this off." Tucker turned to his friends with a pleading look on his face. "We're not gonna get another chance like this. We just have to go in and get our guys back. After that, Wash will know what to do."

"But even Felix couldn't break into this place," Simmons reminded him.

"_We're_ not Felix. Felix is smart. The Feds won't be expecting _dumb_."

"Hey!" Caboose snapped. "Who are you calling dumb?"

"Shut up," Simmons muttered.

"No, Simmons, I was just asking for some clarification. I'm a little lost."

"Hey, Grif, hit him again," Tucker said.

Grif smacked Caboose on the arm this time.

"Thanks." Tucker sat down on his bed and shook his head. "Look, we keep trying to strategize and use codenames and act like real soldiers, but we're not. We haven't been from the beginning. So why are we trying now?" He then looked up with a determined expression. "I say we just get in there and do what we do best."

"Uhh, which is…?" Grif hinted.

"I have no idea," Tucker admitted, getting to his feet. "But, uh, whatever it is, it's worked for us before."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"_That's_ your plan?" Simmons spluttered. "We just show up and wing it? That's the worst plan I ever-"

"Alright," Grif interrupted. "Let's do it."

"What? Grif?" Simmons' eyes widened in shock. "_You_ wanna do this?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"So what? You _never_ wanna do anything. _Ever_."

"Simmons, I've been following orders I never liked for years."

"No you haven't. You disobey orders all the time."

"Well, I don't wanna be the guy who _gives_ shitty orders that nobody wants to follow." Grif bashed his fist against the wall. "I will not become a Sarge, dammit. There's no way I'm making a bunch of stupid rebels get shot for something I want. So yeah, whatever, let's just do it!" He held his hand out and Tucker placed his hand on top.

Simmons gave a loud sniff. "That's the most selfless thing you've ever said."

"But I wanna steal more food before we go."

"Okay, that's more like it."

"Yay, mission!" Caboose cheered, joining the pile-up.

"Simmons?" Tucker asked encouragingly.

Simmons became aware that Grif and Caboose were also looking at him. "Okay, fine," he sighed, putting his hand in as well. "How are we getting there?"

"Ha ha, yes!" Tucker broke oof the shake then he pulled out a memory card. "Okay, I snuck into Kimball's office and grabbed all the data I took from the Feds' lab. We've got a map that will lead us straight to them. Now all we need is a ride."

"Vehicle bay's got plenty of Warthogs, I guess," Grif replied.

"And I can drive a tank!" Caboose added.

"NO!" the others yelled.

"Well, you're all just jealous," Caboose sulked, folding his arms.

"Wait, what about the rebels?" Simmons asked. "I mean, I don't think they'll be happy with us just leaving like this?"

Tucker thought about it for a moment. Then he stepped out into the corridor where he spotted a computer screen sitting in one corner. "I have an idea…"

* * *

The next morning, Matthews was making his way down to the mess hall when he heard the sound of two vehicles driving away. Quickly he ran into the vehicle bay, only to find a big empty space where two Warthogs originally stood.

Just then, Bitters came in behind him. "Hey Matthews, have you seen the Reds and Blues around? I can't find them."

"No," Matthews replied, approaching the empty space. "But that might explain why two of our jeeps are missing."

It was then that he noticed a tape lying on the floor with a note attached to it reading 'Please show this to Kimball and our squad. The Reds and Blues.'

The moment, Kimball received the tape, she called in Smith, Palomo, Jensen and Felix to come into her office. The squad members arrived first so she played the tape for them.

"Hello everyone," came Simmons' voice. "If you're listening to this, it means we're already gone."

"Look," Tucker's voice added. "It's not you, it's us."

"Tell them not to leave the lights on!" Caboose's voice called out.

"Caboose, not now!" Grif's voice snapped.

"I miss you already," Caboose's voice shouted. "I promise we'll call." And the tape ended.

"Dammit, Tucker," Kimball sighed.

Palomo looked at the others in dismay. "They just… left us?"

At that moment, Felix entered the office. "Who left us?"

Nobody answered, but Felix looked first at Kimball's angered expression, then at Smith's tear-filled eyes, then Jensen's distraught look, then Bitters and Palomo's sorrowful faces, then finally at the recorded message and he instantly knew what had happened. "Oh no."

* * *

Several miles away, in the middle of a desert, the two Warthogs approached the only building in sight, a gas station, and came to a stop. Tucker kept his eyes open for trouble, Caboose just sat back in his seat, and Grif and Simmons were as usual having another argument.

"Okay," Simmons was saying. "The ability to fly… North."

"Eh, I don't know," Grif replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean? That's a great 'terrible superpower'."

"Yeah, but you can still fly."

"You can only fly North. It's so inconvenient. Once you land, you still have to walk wherever you're going."

"Mmm, I guess so."

"Okay, what about the ability to teleport… one foot at a time."

"Mmmmm, meh."

"You're meh," Simmons sighed. "This road trip sucks."

Tucker climbed out of the passenger seat of his jeep and stepped towards the station. "Hello-oh?" he called out. "Anybody home? We got some cars that need fuel!"

"Yeah, we would also like to purchase some lottery tickets!" Caboose added, getting out the driver's seat. "Yeah, I know the odds, but I just, I still think it's just fun."

"This place looks deserted," Simmons muttered, climbing down from the turret of his jeep.

"Woo hoo, let's loot!" Grif cheered, jumping out the driver's side. "I've always wanted my own Slurpee machine."

"Oh dude," Tucker chuckled. "Let me know if they've got any magazines."

"Me too!" Caboose added. "One with pictures!"

"Specifically ones with pictures, if you know what I'm saying."

Suddenly they heard a strange swishing noise coming from a nearby cave.

"What was that?" Simmons asked.

"Maybe it's the owners," Tucker replied.

"Oh man," Grif groaned. "Can't we just pretend they're not here and loot anyway?"

"Hey, Caboose, go tell them they got customers," Tucker ordered. "You guys start filling up the cars."

"Do it yourself," Grif retorted, heading towards the station. "I'm gonna take a leak."

"Oh alright, but be sure to get my lottery ticket," Caboose told him. "My numbers are 5… 7… And don't forget them!" With that, he set off into the cave.

Tucker shook his head as he picked up the gas pump nozzle and loaded it into his jeep. "I know I said a bunch of inspirational crap back at the base, but it's times like this when I really wonder how we haven't been killed yet. You know?"

Simmons didn't reply immediately as he began filling up his tank. "How about, the power to turn into the Hulk… but only when you're asleep."

* * *

Inside the station, Grif wandered down the aisles, a Slurpee cup in one hand and a shopping bag loaded with crisps and Oreos hooked on his elbow.

"Hello? Just here to use the bathroom! Also somebody emptied out your Slurpee machine, might want to get that filled." He paused for a moment as he peeked over the counter. "Man, what kind of gas station doesn't have hot dogs?"

With a shrug, he went round the back of the counter and opened the door, reeling back at the overpowering stench that wafted out. "Phoar-ho-hoh! Jesus, it smells like somebody died in-" His voice trailed off as he saw the silver-armored body inside the room. "-here?"

The Slurpee cup dropped out of his hand as he stared at the body in horror. Then he turned and scurried out of the station. "Tucker! Simmons!"

* * *

Inside the cave, unaware of Grif's grisly discovery, Caboose wandered through the darkened tunnels, humming softly to himself.

Just then, a mysterious voice rang out ahead of him. "Targets will be arriving in the morning. Do not disappoint me."

"Understood, Control," came another voice, more distinct than the last.

"Huh, I think I hear the sound of some new friends," Caboose muttered, turning round a corner. "Hello?"

Suddenly he felt himself getting pulled back and a hand covering his mouth. Turning round in shock, he quickly relaxed when he realized who'd grabbed him. "Oh, Tucker! Gruff! Simon! Perfect. You can help me and my friends come up with a secret high five!"

"Quiet, Caboose," Tucker hissed. "You want them to see us?"

Cautiously, the Reds and Blues crept around the corner and hurried behind some crates. Peeking over them, they spotted a group of soldiers dressed in black armor standing in a row.

"So what's the word?" one soldier asked.

"Control says to give it thirty more minutes," said the owner of the second voice.

"Ugh, this is a waste of time," groaned another soldier, a female.

"Agreed," the first soldier replied.

"Who are these guys?" Grif hissed.

"Well, they're definitely not the gas station attendants," Tucker replied.

"Wow, Tucker," Grif muttered sarcastically. "I can really see why _you're_ the leader."

"Up. Yours."

"Quiet," Simmons whispered. "I can't hear what they're saying."

"You know what they say," the leader told his men. "Orders are orders."

Just then, the leader's radio switched on and a familiar voice spoke out. "Jackson."

"Yes, Locus," the leader replied.

"Change of plans," Locus informed him. "Report back to base immediately. The Reds and Blues will be requiring… an escort."

"Understood." Jackson switched off the radio and turned to his team. "You heard him, grab your gear and prep for evac."

With that, the soldiers turned and marched off into a nearby tunnel.

"Where are they going?" Caboose asked.

Tucker didn't reply, but jumped out of cover and ran after the soldiers.

"Tucker, wait!" Simmons called out.

As Tucker ran towards the tunnel, he heard the strange whooshing noise again and by the time he reached the tunnel, the soldiers had gone.

Baffled, Tucker turned round as his friends joined him. "They just… vanished."

"Vanished?" Simmons asked puzzled.

"They said something about Reds and Blues," Grif recalled.

"Oh my God, I know those colors!" Caboose cried. "They're us!"

"They were Feds," Tucker muttered, his eyes narrowed. "I heard one of them mention Locus."

"Well, they didn't look like the typical Stormtrooper guys," Simmons noted. "You think they were Special Ops?"

"I think we should get to the base as fast as possible," Tucker decided, heading back the way they'd come. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

**Ooh, suddenly this mission is starting to get dangerous!**


	8. Thin Ice

**We're fast approaching the moment we'd all been impatiently waiting for; the reunion of the Reds and Blues.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Thin Ice

Taking a deep breath, Bitters raised his rifle and fired a single shot, but it went wide, missing the traffic cone on the other side of the cave.

"Missed," Palomo stated.

Casting a quick glare at Palomo, Bitters fired another shot but he still hit the cone.

"Missed," Palomo repeated.

"Palomo, I know when I miss!" Bitters snarled through gritted teeth, firing another shot that went wide.

"Are you missing on purpose?" Palomo asked.

"Oh alright, that's it!" Bitters snapped, swinging his rifle right into Palomo's face.

"OW!" Palomo yelled as Bitters started beating him mercilessly. "Ow! Ow! It was a legitimate question!"

"Am I missing now?!" Bitters taunted.

As Jensen watched the scuffle, she sighed and bowed her head. Ever since their captains had left, the team spirit had fallen an all-time low. Kimball had insisted that they continued their training regardless, but as she'd just seen with Bitters' bad aiming, the recruits were unable to concentrate for long.

At that moment, Smith joined them, looking very depressed. "Well, I spoke to Kimball. Search and rescue has been denied."

"Yeah, well, good riddance," Bitters retorted, taking out his frustration by kicking Palomo in the ribs. "They never cared about us anyway."

"How can you thay that?" Jensen gasped in disbelief. "They left becauthe they didn't want uth getting hurt."

"Yeah, well, what do you call this?" Bitters countered. "They didn't take us to get shot, but they sure as hell left us to die!"

Tears began to well up in Jensen's eyes. "We don't know that, they could come back."

"Their message didn't exactly specify," Smith pointed out.

"They'll come back," Palomo grunted, getting painfully to his feet. "I _know_ they'll come back."

As he took aim at the cones, a shot rang out and one of the cones went flying.

"Nice shot," Bitters breathed.

"Wasn't me," Palomo muttered.

Just then, they heard a cough behind them, and they turned to see Felix coming towards them, holding a smoking rifle in his hands. "You shouldn't be so hard on the guys," he told the squad. "They did what they thought was best; can't fault them for that. Still, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of those four when I find them."

"When you find them?" Smith echoed puzzled.

Felix nodded as he turned to go. "Tell Kimball I'm buying back one of the Warthogs I sold her."

"But Felicth, she thaid we weren't allowed to go after them!" Jensen shouted. "It wath a direct order!"

"Well, orders only work on soldiers," Felix called back. "_I_ am a mercenary!"

* * *

After a relatively uneventful journey of several miles, the Reds and Blues had left the desert and entered a snow-covered mountain range. Now they pulled up beside a large metal wall built into a huge crevasse.

"This is it," Simmons announced. "According to our data, the Federal Army base is just on the other side of this wall."

"About time!" Tucker cried. "My ass was asleep for so long, I thought it slipped into a coma!"

The Reds and Blues got out of their jeeps and approached the wall.

"So, we're here," Grif said. "Now what?"

"We bust our way in," Tucker replied. "Anyone have any ideas?"

"We could try scaling the wall?" Simmons suggested.

"Uh, that's a little too obvious. Think dumber."

"We could knock on the door?" Grif replied.

"Too dumb."

"I was joking!" Grif cried.

"We could knock on their door?" Caboose asked.

"I just said that!"

"Yeah, but you were joking. I felt the plan deserved more consideration."

"Hmmm." Tucker looked up the wall, rubbing his chin in thought. "How do you break into an evil ice fortress?"

"You melt it!" Caboose cried. "Like evil ice cream!"

"Holy shit!" Tucker gasped. "We melt our way in!"

"Wait- what- real-" Caboose couldn't believe his ears. "YES! I WIN!"

"What?" Grif cried, equally baffled.

"We can't go through the wall," Tucker explained. "And going over it is what most people would do, so let's just go under it."

"That's retarded," Grif groaned, visor-palming.

"Exactly!" Tucker chuckled and patted his teammate's shoulder. "Damn, I'd never thought I'd say this, I mean ever, seriously, but good job, Caboose!"

"Oh well, I'm just really glad someone appreciates my genius. Now let's start melting!" So saying, Caboose knelt next to the icy tunnel wall and began blowing on it as hard as he could.

"Caboose, you're wearing a helmet," Tucker sighed. "That's not doing anything."

"Okay, well, fine," Caboose panted, getting to his feet. "Then how do you explain my sudden lightheaded… ness.

"What about friction?" Tucker decided. "All the ladies tell me I light a fire between my legs."

"That's chlamydia," Grif replied.

"Friction won't work," Simmons explained. "It's gotta be negative forty degrees Celsius out here." That statement got confused looks from the others, which made Simmons sigh. "That's negative forty degrees Fahrenheit."

"Jesus, that's cold!" Tucker cried.

"That's freezing!" Grif agreed.

"You people are idiots," Simmons sighed.

"Well, say it in American next time," Grif retorted.

"Oh! I've got it!" Tucker whipped out his energy sword, switched it on and with a swing and a cry of "Stab!", he thrust it right into the icy floor under their feet.

Simmons watched as the ice around the sword began to steam. "Is it working?"

Seconds later, the ice cracked underneath them, and the next thing they knew- "WHOOOOAAAA!" They fell right through the floor and landed in a heap in a metal corridor.

"Ow, it worked!" Simmons grunted, pulling himself out of the pile.

Grif pushed Tucker's legs off his chest and got to his feet, looking around the tunnel. "Where are we?"

"Hey, what was that noise?" came a voice further down the tunnel.

"Oh shit," Tucker gasped, jumping up. "We're inside!"

"I think bad guys are coming!" Caboose hissed.

"What do we do?" Simmons cried in panic. "What do we do?!"

"I don't know!" Tucker yelped. "I didn't think this far ahead!"

"Damn it! This is why winging it is a bad idea!" Simmons grabbed his head in his hands. "No more winging it!"

"I swear, I heard something just around the corner," the voice stated, and footsteps rang out down the corridor.

"Let's get out of here!" Grif cried.

"There could be more guards!" Tucker breathed. "We'll be caught!"

"Well, we've gotta do something!" Simmons whined.

* * *

Further down the tunnel, the Fed soldier who'd heard the noise was making his way towards what he presumed was the source. "Just a few more feet and I'll be there."

Turning a corner, he paused and frowned in confusion. "What the-? Huh."

There, in the middle of the corridor stood four large snowmen, complete with charcoal eyes and mouths and carrots for noses.

"Well, would you look at that?" the Fed chuckled. "Just a couple of harmless snowmen. You guys wouldn't happen to be the ones making all that racket now, would you?"

He laughed at his little joke then he stepped right up to the snowmen and raised his rifle. "Well, time for some target practice."

Suddenly an energy sword burst out of the nearest snowman, stabbing him right through the chest. With a gasp, the Fed dropped his rifle and stumbled backwards, clutching his bleeding wound. "But… why, snowman?"

The last thing he saw before he breathed his last was the snowmen suddenly disintegrating and four figures emerging from their remains…

* * *

Quickly, Tucker, Simmons and Caboose grabbed the dead Fed and buried him under a pile of snow.

"I cannot believe that worked," Tucker chuckled.

"Uh, you're welcome," Grif stated bluntly, dusting snow off his armor.

"How did you do that?"

"I used the same trick to hide from Sarge all the time back in Blood Gulch."

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "You constructed and then hid inside of… a snowman, in the middle of a hot canyon?"

"It wasn't always a perfect plan," Grif admitted. "Once, I was in hiding for a grand total of two minutes before the snow melted and Simmons found me."

"I bet I could beat that record," Caboose challenged.

"Remind me if we ever get back to Blood Gulch," Grif replied.

Just then, Simmons came back from his quick reconnaissance of the base. "According to our intel, there's not much standing between the end of this tunnel and the detention facility."

"That's awesome!" Tucker cheered.

"No, I mean there's literally nothing between us." Simmons led the others to the tunnel exit and pointed out the huge empty field between them and the facility. "We'll be spotted as soon as we leave the tunnel."

"I don't know," Tucker muttered. "Doesn't look like there's anyone around to me."

At that very moment, a siren blared out from speakers planted around the outpost.

"Alright, lunch break's over," came a voice from the speakers. "Back to your stations, people."

Just then, several doors slid open and hundreds of Feds came pouring out into the field.

"Come on, maggots, get the lead out!" yelled one soldier driving a Warthog. "Move! Move! Move!"

The Reds and Blues quickly ducked back into the tunnel, moments before a Scorpion-Class tank came rolling past.

"Whoo, brand new tank coming in!" yelled the driver. "This will kill any intruders for sure!"

Tucker sighed and shook his head. "I hate my stupid mouth."

"I hate it more," Grif agreed.

"How are we gonna sneak past that?" Simmons cried.

Tucker thought for a moment. "We're not."

"Glad to hear you're finally making sense, Tucker," Grif beamed. "Let's do home. Good effort, everybody! We came, we saw, we realized it was impossible. No shame in that."

Tucker led the others back down the tunnel until they came to some large pipes built into the icy wall.

"Can't help but realize we haven't left yet," Grif noted.

"We can't sneak past those guys," Tucker explained. "So instead, we're gonna make as much noise as possible. If we can cause enough trouble somewhere else, we can draw them away from the prison. What do you guys think?"

"Well, it fits with the dumb ideas thing," Simmons admitted.

Tucker turned to the wall with a smile. "I'm thinking if we fuck up these important looking pipes and haul ass, we can make it to the building."

"Ugh, we have to run?" Grif groaned.

"We have to try. Worst case scenario, we end up in jail with everyone else and just wait for this whole civil war thing to blow over."

"I think worst case scenario is getting shot," Simmons corrected. "Or Grif getting shot and we have to carry him. There's only three of us."

"Fuck it," Tucker decided. "Caboose, do your thing."

"Time to CLEAN THE PIPES!" Caboose shouted, raising his rifle and opening fire.

* * *

All around the base, alarms began to blare, making all the Feds look up. "Alert! Catastrophic breach detected in sewage pipeline, sector 3!"

One Fed shook his head. "Sucks to be maintenance."

"Warning! Sewage breach detected in the barracks!"

The Fed gasped in horror. "Oh shit, nooo! My stuff!"

At once, every single Fed soldier abandoned their posts and ran towards the barracks, desperate to protect their belongings.

"Now's our chance," Tucker cried, racing out of the tunnel. "Run!"

"Here goes nothing!" Simmons cried, running after him.

"Let's race!" Caboose yelled, dashing ahead.

Grif just groaned as he hurried after them.

As they ran, they passed other soldiers too caught up with preventing the impending disaster to even notice them.

"Come on guys," yelled the Warthog driver. "Gotta save our shit, from the shit!"

"Oh man," the tank driver moaned. "Last night was taco night!"

At last, the Reds and Blues arrived at the detention facility, stopping outside a heavily-armored door.

"Yeah, first place!" Caboose cried, hitting the door.

Simmons and Tucker arrived next and Grif came in last, puffing and panting heavily. "Oh my God… I'm gonna die. I hope I die."

"Simmons, do something about this door!" Tucker ordered.

"What do you mean?" Simmons asked.

"It's locked. Hack the door controls or something!"

"What makes you think I can just hack a door?"

"You're the smart one! All you're good for is hacking things and making me look more handsome in comparison!"

"I don't have any intel!" Simmons cried, panicking. "I don't have any tools! I-I-I can't just do it, I need time!"

"We don't have time, genius," Grif yelled. "Just pretend like it's a timed maths test or something!"

"I don't work well under pressure," Simmons squeaked. "You know that!"

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the other side of the door and then it began to slowly slide open.

"Uh oh, watch out!" Tucker cried out. "Someone's coming out!"

Quickly the Reds and Blues raised their weapons, ready to challenge who came out. But when the door was fully open and they saw who was on the other side, their jaws fell several miles.

"Oh shit…" Tucker gasped.

There standing in the doorway, were not a group of Fed soldiers, but four Spartans just like them, their own weapons raised. One was dressed in red armor, one was in pink armor, one was in brown armor and one was wearing steel-gray armor with yellow highlights. Unbelievable as it seemed, Tucker, Caboose, Grif and Simmons found themselves face-to-face with the very people they had come all this way to rescue: Sarge, Donut, Lopez and Agent Washington!

After a long pause, Washington lowered his gun. "Tucker?"

"Wash?" Tucker breathed, lowering his rifle.

"What in Sam Hell are you boys doing here?" Sarge cried.

Under normal circumstances, Simmons would be happy to hear Sarge's gruff Southern accent again, but now he was completely confused. "We came to save you!"

"But… we were supposed to save you?" Donut said.

Everybody stood still in the doorway, swapping very perplexed looks.

"Bum bum buuuummm!" Caboose stated dramatically. "Cliffhanger!"

* * *

**I'm pretty sure calling cliffhangers is my call, Caboose, but at this moment, I'm too shocked to complain!**


	9. Author's Note

**Just want to quickly tell you, I'll be on holiday for the next three weeks, so there won't be any Red vs. Blue updates for a while. I'm just grateful to whoever updates the wiki page for giving me this chance to post the four recent episodes. Keep this up so that by the time I'll be able to watch the next episodes, the transcripts will be ready for me to continue my work.**


End file.
